Guess (A BBC Sherlock Love Story)
by SweetSweetness
Summary: "Caring is not an advantage" but Annabel has a hard time believing so. Sherlock's trusted companion Dr. John Watson is away on a honeymoon so Sherlock decides to get a temporary replacement. The person he chooses however, may just be the end of him. (Sherlock X OC) I do not own Sherlock.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay so here's the dealio. This was a story I had begun to write a couple of months ago as something to satisfy my BBC Sherlock obsession. I have recently gotten back to my Sherlock faze and decided I would actually post this as well as try to write more. The thing is though, at any given time I could just stop writing and delete the story (because I am just too lazy to continue it). So, just a fair warning, I do not know how much of this story I will be writing. But please do enjoy this while you can (whoever is going to be reading it...). Please share this with your friends :)**

"Sherlock dear what are you doing now?" Mrs. Hudson asked, looking at Sherlock Holmes as he moved through the flat, making papers fly everywhere. Mrs. Hudson sighed as she mumbled, "I only cleaned this flat yesterday and already…" She would have left, but this was the first energetic thing that Sherlock had done since the announced vacation of his fellow comrade, Mr. John Watson, a now married man.

"How could John possibly leave me right when we were in the middle of such an important case!" Sherlock exclaimed as he searched every corner of his flat, even the refrigerator, which still had the head from last week deposited in it. "Sherlock what in the world is it that you are looking for?!" Sherlock paused for a moment to look up at the alarmed Mrs. Hudson.

"I'm looking for John's computer. He told me he wasn't taking it for his vacation, but had no intention of letting me use it. But as it turns out, I really need that computer right now, so I am looking in every possible place that it could be," said Sherlock before he continued his search, looking beneath the pillows on the two green arm chairs that sat near the old fireplace.

"Dear if you stop tormenting my flat I will give you John's computer alright?" Mrs. Hudson said as Sherlock went back into the kitchen. Suddenly, all the clattering of science projects ceased, and Sherlock walked back into the living room to face Mrs. Hudson, who was standing at the doorway, looking uncomfortable.

"You know where the computer is?!" Sherlock exclaimed, walking over to Mrs. Hudson. "W-Why yes. John gave it to me before he left, saying not to give it to you." Sherlock let out a breath of relief as he grabbed Mrs. Hudson's shoulders. "Mrs. Hudson, you _must_ give me the computer. It is a matter of life and death!" Mrs. Hudson quickly shook the man's hands off of her as she said, "Alright, I'll go get it."

Sherlock Holmes sat down in his armchair and let out a long sigh. Ever since John had gone on his honeymoon vacation Sherlock hasn't been able to find anything in his home. It was Watson who always organized the location of important papers and now that he was gone Sherlock was unable to find a thing. Mrs. Hudson suddenly came back into the room, holding John's small laptop computer in her hands. "Here it is, I'm pretty sure John changed the password before he left though," Mrs. Hudson said, handing the computer over to Sherlock.

Sherlock opened the computer and thought for a moment. '_What could the password possibly be now?'_ John always loved passwords, trying to keep Sherlock out of his personal stuff; of course it never worked though. After a moment of consideration, Sherlock typed a password in, and got in instantly. 

"What was the password?" Mrs. Hudson asked out of curiously. "It was actually a very easy password, the only possible password that John would have put on this computer at…this…time." He didn't say what it was though, and right when Mrs. Hudson was going to ask again, Sherlock answered "The password was "don't you dare Sherlock". Not my idea of course."

Mrs. Hudson couldn't help but laugh and that made Sherlock grin as well, though his eyes were pasted on the computer screen. "What was it that you needed the computer for?" Mrs. Hudson asked. Sherlock was starting to get irritated by all the unneeded questions but answered her out of politeness. "An ad," He said simply, as he typed quickly on the computer. "Working alone is frustrating. I need someone to fill John's spot while he is away. So I'm making an ad in the paper about it."

"This is the matter of life and death? An ad?!" Mrs. Hudson asked, a little irritated at the childish Sherlock.

"Yes. It could be the death of me for all we know." Mrs. Hudson sighed angrily and walked out of the flat, picking up papers that were in her way. Sherlock meanwhile, was writing the ad on John's blog.

"Needed: An assistant in the field of consulting detective work. Must meet qualifications below as well as come to the interview on Thursday the eighth at twelve o'clock sharp. No later. There, I think that is good enough," Sherlock said, as he listed the qualifications, one of them being "Must not be ordinary". Once he finished, he pressed the send button and closed the laptop. "It's time for the show to begin," said Sherlock, smiling.

Right after the message was sent, hundreds of people read it, and knowing the infamous Sherlock Holmes of course they wanted to join the detective in his work; maybe even getting some money on the side. Even the poorest of communities were able to read the message and many of them thought this was like a lottery ticket to fame. That Thursday, at twelve o'clock sharp, not a minute after, forty-five people were lined up outside of 221b Baker Street. One of them being Annabel Greer. She had also gotten the message from one of her friends, and decided to show up for the heck of it. And just as Sherlock had ordered, she was no ordinary person. Once her interview time came up, she made her way upstairs into Sherlock's flat. He was sitting in his armchair with John's laptop on his lap.

"Name," he said, not looking up from the computer screen.

"Annabel, Annabel Greer," She said, handing him her résumé. While he looked through it, Annabel observed his flat. It was organized; everything was in its place. Annabel even got the wrong impression that Sherlock was actually a neat person! The only thing that made her feel uneasy was the skull on top of the mantelpiece. "I-Is that real?" She asked, pointing at the skull. Sherlock didn't even look up. Instead, he stood up, and put the computer and résumé on the table. Finally, he turned around and looked at her. There was dead silence between them before Sherlock finally spoke, ignoring her question. "So, what makes you think you can be my assistant?" Sherlock asked, approaching the girl. She stood her ground and swallowed the brick in her throat as she spoke.

"I am a pickpocket. I also have a specialty with lock picking," Annabel said, walking around the flat, leaving Sherlock in the middle. "And where is it that you acquired these so called skills?" Sherlock asked, following the woman with his eyes. "Let's just say…I've done this kind of thing before."

"So I am to assume you are not an amateur, is that correct?" But even before he said this, he had already analyzed the woman. She was wearing regular clothes, showing that she was not in a business. The clothes were not dirty, but the bottoms of her jeans were wet. But it was a very dry week in London, so it meant that the girl lived near a body of water. But if she lived near a body of water it could mean that she was rich. No, that wasn't a possibility; her clothes gave it all away. He looked at her nails, they were uneven, which meant she chews them. Most people chew their nails out of stress, which meant that the girl was in fact nervous. Was it about the interview? Or possibly something else…

"Let me see this skill of yours," Sherlock said as the woman finally stopped in front of him. She smiled, "I already did." She reached in her pocket and took out a wallet. Sherlock's hands flew to his pockets, which were in fact, empty. "Hmm, not bad. Now what about your lock picking skills?" he said, pointing to the front door. Annabel nodded, and walked out the door, closing it behind her.

In matter of seconds, she was back in with nothing more but two paperclips in her hands. "Good," Sherlock said, "But you could have done it faster." The woman frowned, "That was seven seconds!" Sherlock shrugged, "I would think an expert could do it in five." The woman frowned and she fixed the backpack on her back and turned to leave. "Nice meeting you Mr. Holmes," Annabel spat, leaving. 

Annabel left the building, shoving her way through the crowd of people outside. As she was about to get out of the crowd, a hand grabbed her. Annabel was ready to protect herself when she realized it was only her friend, Shirley. Shirley Greene pulled her friend out of the fussing crowd and put her hand around her friend's shoulder.

"So how was the interview? Am I looking at the newest consulting detective?" Shirley said smiling. Annabel couldn't keep eye contact with her friend. She felt ashamed that she stormed out like that; destroying all of the chances she had to start a new life. "I…I don't think I got the job," Annabel mumbled quietly, bearably audible even if they were away from the menacing crowd. Shirley's smile disappeared as she made her friend look at her, "What do you mean? Why?"

Annabel starting walking towards the direction of her usual sitting place. Shirley quickly caught up, staring at her friend. She quickly stopped her and gave Annabel her most deadly glare, "What. Happened." Shirley said not as a question, but a demand. Annabel sighed and finally told her friend what happened.

Shirley crossed her arms. "That's bull crap! It wasn't your fault! I would have done the same thing you did if that jerk treated me like that."

"Right but now, once again I have to go job hunting. And I've already lost seven jobs in the last month! I'm never going to find a job if I keep my attitude up."

"What attitude!? He had it coming!" Shirley argued, looking around the cold city out of frustration.

"Shirley… I'm sorry. Can I just have some time alone? I need to um…look for job openings," Annabel said, trying to hold in her angry tears. Shirley didn't get the message.

"I can help you look!" She said gleefully. "No, Shirley, I just want to be alone for a bit," Annabel said, wiping her nose with her jacket. She didn't look back at her friend and kept walking. Luckily, Shirley didn't try to catch up again.

Annabel didn't allow herself to cry as she looked through the newspaper in a local coffee shop. She couldn't help but think about the interview. She tried her best. She really wanted the job. It would actually be a job that she understands and enjoys. But of course she had to talk back to _the _Sherlock Holmes. But Shirley was right. He was rude to her. He did have it coming. For the next hour, Annabel focused her attention on the newspaper, trying to find something else she could do. Half way through the wanted section, she was interrupted by one of the waitresses. It was a large woman in her forties, with makeup that practically created a mask on her face. She held a pot of coffee in her hand.

"Is there anythin' else I can get for ya lass?" The lady asked in an Irish accent. Annabel looked up and smiled politely, "No ma'am. Thank you." The woman nodded and walked away to another customer.

Annabel sighed and put down her paper, rubbing her eyes. She looked outside into the busy London city. It was dark outside, signaling that it was time for her to go. She collected her backpack and walked out of the café, shoving the newspaper in her backpack.

The cold air nipped at Annabel's exposed skin. She shivered and looked around the lit up city. Even though she already had a million things on her mind, Annabel had to find a place to sleep tonight. She locked away all her other thoughts to be opened at a more appropriate time. She didn't want to sleep in another alley, she almost got robbed last time she slept in one of them. The homeless club beneath the city wasn't really for her either. Everyone would always stare at her there because she and Shirley were the only young girls in that place. She took out the phone she had gotten from a poor sucker two days ago and dialed Shirley's number. She prayed in her mind that the idiot hadn't cut off the phone line yet. Her prayers were answered when Shirley picked up.

"Hello?" Shirley said in her sweet voice. There were voices in the background which meant she was still in the city.

"Hey Shirley, it's me Annabel. Where are you camping tonight?" Annabel asked as she began to walk towards an emptier and quieter street with possibly a better signal. Shirley thought on the other line. "To tell you the truth, I was kind of hoping you'd know," Shirley said, laughing through her obvious cold.

Annabel sighed as she thought for a moment, "Ok. Um, meet me at the usual place; we'll stay there for tonight."

"Alright then. See you soon," Shirley said, hanging up.

Annabel put her phone in her jeans' pocket and began walking towards an abandoned home a few blocks away from where she was.

Sherlock Holmes sat silently in his flat, lightly strumming his violin. There were so many interviews that even Sherlock lost count. There had been a few interesting ones. A pizza delivery boy who knew every way to every street in London, a hunter who knew how to use every legal rifle in the world as well as some illegal ones too, a banker who had access to half of the building in London and then there had been the girl with the strange thief skills. Sherlock now had to figure out who would be most useful in his cases. He plucked his violin, and with each pluck, he got rid of a person until only one was left. 

"Wow this soup is great! Where did you get it?" Annabel asked as she slurped her chicken soup happily. Shirley did the same. "They were selling it on the street. I just…took some," Shirley said smiling. The two girls laughed as they continued gulping the soup in the abandoned building they had found a few months back. They hadn't been going there as much because of the police that seem to love patrolling the area.

"So, how'd the job hunt go?" Shirley asked, putting down her empty plastic bowl on the ground. Annabel sighed. "Oh fine I guess. I didn't really find anything…yet." Shirley smiled encouragingly, "Don't give up Annabel; I'm sure something will show up." Annabel sighed, "Yeah, that's what I'm hoping."

The two girls threw away their containers and laid down in their sleeping bags.

"So, any plans for tomorrow?" Annabel asked her friend, who was playing with her curly brown hair. As she watched, she couldn't help but feel the way she felt very often nowadays.

Jealous.

Annabel's hair itself was short, only covering her jaw. It was straight and a dirty blond color that somehow added to the whole homeless look. But Shirley could walk out in nothing but scraps and look like a model.

"I dunno. Maybe I'll go visit Grandma Lynn..." Shirley trailed off, looking up at the cracked ceiling of the abandoned home.

"Oh good idea. I...I think I'll come too. I need to get my mind of the whole job thing," Annabel said, closing her eyes. After a few moments of silence, Shirley finally said "Goodnight Anna."

"Goodnight Shirley," Annabel sighed, slowly drifting off into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: BIG shout out to **_**kolla00**_** for being the first to put this story on their alert list and ****_ 13_**** for being the first to favorite it. Thank you! This chapter goes out to you guys ;) .**

**Just BTW, last chapter I failed to mention Annabel giving Sherlock her résumé so I fixed it…you can either go choose to reread that little part that I fixed or ignore it completely. Your choice :)**

Grandma Lynn was an old lady who lived in a flat in the slums that Annabel and Shirley called "home". She never married, nor did she have any children, yet she was everybody's grandmother. She gave food to those who didn't have any, and let Annabel and Shirley use her bathroom to bathe. The two were her favorite out of all the people she knew. But Grandma Lynn was a retired woman, living in a three room flat, and so no matter how much she loved the two girls, they could not live with her. Annabel and Shirley could not bring it on themselves to cause even _more_ trouble for a poor old woman.

"Oh dearies it has been ages!" Grandma Lynn exclaimed as she pushed the two girls into her flat. "It's only been two days Grandma. Plus Annabel came her yesterday to shower before her…well interview," Shirley said, looking down uncomfortably at the mention of yesterday's disaster of an interview.

"Oh yes that's right! Annabel how _was_ the interview?" Grandma Lynn said putting a rusty old kettle on the small stove she had in her kitchen/living room. Shirley quickly rushed into the bathroom to take a shower as well as to avoid the dark stare Annabel sent her way.

Annabel sighed, "I don't think I got the job… I don't even think I'm special enough to work for a guy like Sherlock Holmes." She looked around the small flat to get her mind off of the embarrassing scene she had at Mr. Holmes' home.

Grandma Lynn's flat was falling apart. The shamrock green wallpaper had begun to shed its skin, revealing an ugly gray wall behind it. There were water stains on the ceilings and the furniture creaked at the slightest touch. Yet when Annabel looked over at Grandma Lynn, she looked as though she felt like she lived in a mansion. A smile was always brightening her face and her light blue eyes sparkled every time she spoke. But the woman was so thin and frail, it made Annabel's stomach turn.

"Now don't you speak like that!" Grandma Lynn said strictly, pointing a rusty metal spoon in Annabel's direction, "You're just as good as everybody else in this damned place! No, you are even better!"

Grandma Lynn turned her back to Annabel and a few moments later turned around with two cups of tea.

Grandma Lynn's hands shook as she set the cups down on the table. Annabel picked one of them up and took a sip.

"My dear beautiful Annabel," Grandma Lynn said softy, putting down her cup, "I hope with all my heart that you will get this job. I want you to have a good life. Live in a grand place somewhere…_warm_. London is far too cold and rainy for a sunny girl like you."

Annabel smiled shyly, feeling her cheeks begin to burn, "Thank you Grandma Lynn."

"I'll pray for you." Grandma Lynn nodded to herself, as if to put a little note on her invisible to-do list.

After a few minutes of sipping tea, Shirley finally came back into the room to join the two ladies. Shirley then switched places with Annabel in order for her to be able to go take a shower as well. Annabel took a speedy shower, not wanting to waste Grandma Lynn's precious water supply. But right when she got out of the shower, she heard her phone's notification sound go off.

_Bing!_

Annabel pulled her phone out of her jeans' pocket which was laying crumpled on the ground and opened it.

It was a text message.

_Northumberland Street, coffee shop. _

_Meet me there in 30 minutes._

_SH_

Annabel quickly pulled her clothes on and ran into the living room, holding the mobile phone in her hand. "Shirley, Shirley!" Annabel exclaimed, surprising Shirley who almost dropped her tea.

"W-What Annabel, what is it?" Annabel handed her shaken friend the mobile. After a few seconds of looking at it, Shirley looked up at Grandma Lynn.

"Well what does it say?"

"Grandma Lynn…I think…Anna got the job." Grandma Lynn's eyes got wide, and a smile larger than before covered her face. "Annabel congratulations!" Grandma Lynn sprung up, giving Annabel a tight hug. Shirley joined in too.

They hugged like this for about two minutes before a sudden realization hit Annabel. She quickly pulled away from her two teary-eyed friends.

"I have to be there in twenty minutes," She said rather alarmingly.

"Oh shit that's right!" Shirley said, before getting scowled by Grandma Lynn for cursing. Annabel shoved her phone in her pocket and rushed for the front door.

"Shirley, I'll meet you by the river later!" Annabel shouted behind her, getting an agreeing response from Shirley.

Annabel made it the café just in the nick of time. She rushed into the shop and looked around. There, in the corner sat Sherlock Holmes. Or who she thought to be Sherlock Holmes. She wasn't completely sure since she only saw the back of his head. But with the massive curls the man had, Annabel was ready to bet her life on the man being Mr. Holmes. She began walking towards him, but before she could even face him he spoke up.

"Ms. Greer, please do sit down."

Annabel did as she was told and sat down in front of Mr. Holmes.

"How did you-"

"Your footsteps. Every person has very distinct footsteps almost like a fingerprint. I could tell it was you from the moment you walked in. Now, I have contacted you today because we have some business to discuss."

Annabel stayed silent.

"I have decided that I would like to see how you "perform" your talents in certain situations," Sherlock said, sipping the drink he had in front of him.

"You mean like a test?" Annabel asked.

"Yes exactly. A test. It will show me how well you would react if this were your job and if your life depended on it. Now, John learned this skill overtime but since I am paying you this should be…elementary to you. Correct?"

"Y-Yes of course," Annabel said, though she felt as though she was lying.

Annabel had never used her talents as a job. It was something she used to get by, to be able to survive. The thought of her being tested on a survival instinct did not feel right.

"You seem concerned," Sherlock noted, almost as though he didn't really care, "I hope you are not lying to me when you tell me you are able to do this. I do not want amateurs helping me. Would cause too much trouble."

Annabel had to keep in mind that the man she was talking to could identify a software designer by his tie. She had to choose her next words very carefully. She looked the consulting detective in the eye, mustered up all her courage and said with the most neutral of tones,

"I am perfectly fine with showing you what I am capable of doing Mr. Holmes. The real question is will you be able to keep up?"

Sherlock simply chuckled, but it faded away just as soon as it appeared. He took another sip from his cup before standing up and exiting the booth in which the two had been previously seated in.

"Very well then. I will see you in front of 221b Baker Street at eight o'clock tonight," Sherlock said, glancing at his watch.

"If you are late, I will take that as a resignation. Good day."  
And just like that, he walked out of the coffee shop with not a word more.

**Please favorite, review and put this on your alert list! It really does help boost my self-esteem and gives me more inspiration to write this stuff. Tell me what you think! :)**


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